


A Labour of Love

by raiyana



Series: Nwalin works [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Inspired by Fanart, M/M, Poetry, loveletters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 09:56:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12296757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raiyana/pseuds/raiyana
Summary: Nori kept finding these notes, notes he wassurewere important, written by Dwalin.There's only one problem, really.Nori never really learned to read.





	A Labour of Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Blue_Sparkle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Sparkle/gifts).



[Based on this short strip by Blue_Sparkle](http://asparklethatisblue.tumblr.com/post/147955598713)

 

He’d begun finding these small… notes. Nori recognised Dwalin’s handwriting, and Dori had managed to teach him enough to realise that the letters – written on paper of a quality he used to nick for Ori, and in an ink Nori was pretty sure would have cost Ori a month’s pay per bottle in Ered Luin – were addressed to him. He had also managed to – well it wasn’t _guessing,_ not really, _Dori_ also began with _D_ , after all – figure out that the letters were from Dwalin. At first, he had wondered what they were, but he’d shrugged it off as some sort of nobby courting custom and simply given Dwalin kisses in return.

Now, however, as he stared at the surprisingly large collection before him, he began to wonder – _was it a hint, of such incredible subtlety that he’d rather considered it beyond Dwalin, who was as solid as a Dwarf could be; completely opposite his own twisty mind?_ – if Dwalin realised that he couldn’t read them. Counting – a quick tally showed him a total of 23 pieces of paper of differing sizes – counting was easy, any thief had to know how much he’d stolen and how much he’d been paid, but letters had stumped him for more than a century now, and Nori hadn’t really noticed the lack of literacy in his daily life before these blasted _letters_ began appearing.

 

* * *

_Elsewhere..._

 

“Nori doesn’t like my poetry!” Dwalin exclaimed, bursting into the King's study and falling back onto Dís’ sofa. The King of Erebor frowned, her clever fingers continuing to move her small needle, the silk thread becoming a repeating pattern of triangles and squares that Fíli had favoured since he was a dwarfling.

“I thought it was quite good, honestly,” she murmured, shooting Dwalin a look of sympathy, “I mean, the part about him stealing your heart might be a little obvious, but overall you did very well.”

“But he _hates_ them!” Dwalin despaired. “He never even comments on _finding_ my notes, let alone the words I write for him.” Despondency writ in every feature, Dwalin turned over, hiding his face in a pillow. Dís tutted, pulling her thread taut.

“I’m sure Nori doesn’t hate your poetry, Dwalin,” she hummed softly, putting down her embroidery hoop and crossing to perch on the edge of the sofa, stroking his hair softly as though he wasn’t older than her. Pressing a kiss to the back of his bald head, she hummed a small tune; a lullaby Thorin had once written, in fact, though none of them remembered the words by now. Dwalin chuckled.

“It’s better than Thorin’s at least,” he smirked. Dís laughed.

“Also better than Balin’s,” she retorted, pinching his ear gently. “Now, if you want to move forward in this courtship, I _do_ think 23 poetic descriptions of why you love Nori is enough to move on to the Family Songs… even if he hasn’t responded.” Dwalin just groaned.

“But he deserves the _right_ words, Dís!” he exclaimed, with such dismay that Dís had a hard time keeping the mirth off her face.

“Maybe you could ask him?” she suggested. “I know that’s a bit…unorthodox, but, surely, you can’t claim he hasn’t conveyed interest?” Dwalin grumbled something unintelligible. “Sorry?”

“Balin!” Dwalin growled. Dís laughed.

“Aye, I can see your trouble, Cousin,” she admitted, returning to stroking Dwalin’s hair. A flash of insight occurred to her at that moment. “Dwalin?” she asked carefully, “are you sure…”

“Of course, I’m sure!” he growled, “I wouldn’t be doing this stupid courtship ritual if I wasn’t sure!”

“I know _that_ , cousin, please, do credit me with _some_ intelligence!” she tossed back at him, flicking his ear with displeasure. “I meant: Are you sure that… well, are you sure that Nori knows how to read?” Dwalin stiffened.

“He must!” he exclaimed. “I mean, _Dori_ can read – he and Balin have literary discussions _all the time_ – and Ori is a _scribe_ , Mahal’s Beard!” Dís hummed thoughtfully.

“Yes, cousin,” she murmured, “but Nori’s never exactly struck me as the type for _scholarly_ pursuits, if you know what I mean.” She winked at him, disarming Dwalin’s scowl with her fond smile. Dwalin frowned.

 

* * *

 

 

“Nori?” Dwalin called, walking into their home – Balin had frowned at him for moving in with Nori before reaching the appropriate stage, but even he had to admit that evicting Nori would be counterproductive at best; the thief had simply showed up in drips and drabs, until he had seemingly always lived in Dwalin’s house.

“Dwalin!” Nori exclaimed. Dwalin frowned; Nori was never surprised to hear him come home.

“Everything alright?” he asked carefully, running through scenarios in his mind. Nori was in the bedroom; there were several reasons – good _or_ bad – for him to sound like he wasn’t particularly pleased to have Dwalin home just yet.

“Yes!” came the chirped reply, which did nothing to soothe Dwalin’s nerves. Nori was… well, _chirpy_ wasn’t among the list of Nori’s moods, as Dwalin knew them, at least, he finally decided, scratching the back of his head.

“I need to talk to you,” he said, steeling himself for anything as he opened the door.

Dwalin stared.

Nori looked up, a guilty look fleetingly appearing on his face, lit by the flickering of the candles disturbed by Dwalin opening the door. That was not the reason Dwalin was struck dumb in the doorway, however. Scattered across the bedspread – carefully arranged in rows of eight – were every note of poetry he had left for Nori. The last space was blank, almost like it was awaiting a final letter of completion.

 

* * *

 

 

Nori felt his ears burning, watching Dwalin stare at his collection. He might not know what they _said_ exactly – though he had a feeling they weren’t shopping lists, for example – but he had kept each one, taking them out every now and again to trace the N in his own name and feel the warmth of Dwalin’s love run through him like a shiver. Honestly, it didn’t matter _what_ was written on the pages in Dwalin’s careful hand – less practiced than Ori’s, even to Nori’s eyes – because every letter was put there for the sake of _Nori_ , for _Nori_ to find in the most obscure places Dwalin could think of, and in Nori’s head that meant as much as the words themselves.

“You kept them,” Dwalin breathed, and Nori would have said that he sounded relieved, if it wasn’t a ridiculous notion. He nodded. “You… you can’t read, can you?” If the words had been challenging or harsh, he would have denied Dwalin’s claim, but the warrior’s rumble was soft, tender like the large hands that reached for him, pulling him close.

“No,” Nori admitted, feeling small and vulnerable. Dwalin hummed, his big arms firm around Nori in the way he liked to be hugged.

“Aye, Dís thought so,” Dwalin murmured, “I been drivin meself spare for _weeks_ wondering why you’d not responded to a single poem.”

“They’re poems?” Nori wondered. Dwalin hummed. “Why would _you_ write poems?”

“I’m not a terrible poet, love,” he chided, pressing a kiss into Nori’s hair, “and it’s traditional, innit.” Looking up, Nori realised that Dwalin was blushing just as vividly as he was.

“Traditional?” he frowned, turning his head up for a kiss.

“Yes?” Dwalin asked. “Step five in the dance of courtship, as first described by Sunna of Khazad-dûm in the First Age: ‘The beloved must be made aware of their traits and habits the lover finds most…” Dwalin trailed off, his blush deepening. Nori raised an eyebrow, waiting for the rest of the sentence. “Well, _pleasing_ …” Suddenly, his collection of letters was infinitely more precious, Nori thought. Dwalin continued briskly, his ears red, “and if the beloved responds favourably, the next step of courtship can be initiated.”

“ _Nobs_ ,” Nori sighed, shaking his head, though part of him – a large part of him – was inordinately pleased with Dwalin’s small love letters.

“Well, I didn’t know you couldn’t read them!” Dwalin defended, and Nori suddenly realised that Dwalin had believed he was putting a stop to their courtship by never mentioning the letters. Moving out of Dwalin’s arms, he scooped up the letters carefully, forming a stack in his arms and moved into the main room.

“Bring the pillows,” he called back over his shoulder as he put the stack on a small side table and added another log to the fire, lighting a couple of wall sconces for extra light.

“What are you doing?” Dwalin asked, appearing in the doorway with the pillows off their bed.

“Come here,” Nori asked, reaching for him. Beneath him, the large warg skin protected his knees from the chilly floor. Dwalin moved slowly, placing down the pillows; reclining on them when Nori pushed him down. “Read them to me,” Nori murmured, fetching the stack of letters and putting them down beside Dwalin, taking up his favourite cuddling position along the warrior’s side. Dwalin stared down at him. Nori smiled, leaning up to kiss him. “Read,” he prompted, “please.” Pressing his mouth against the top of Nori’s head, Dwalin picked up the first piece of paper.

“My grey-eyed Thief,” Dwalin began slowly, somehow feeling more emotional reading the words than he had when he was penning them down…

 _These are words, and no more than strokes of ink on the page._  
_But they are yours, to keep, for the rest of our days._  
 _For each morning, each noon, and each night,_  
 _whether spent upon duty or enjoyed with delight._  
 _I don’t quite know how, but you stole my heart,_  
 _And all I can pray, is that you will not tear it apart._

_My star, my love, my pin-prick of light,  
you bring me joy, even in the darkest of night._

…Putting down one page, he blindly picked up another, feeling Nori’s soft lips pressing kisses against his neck as he continued…

 _What if I told you, I wanted to love you for the rest of my life?_  
_Would you let me?_  
 _If I gave you the key to my heart, my soul,_  
 _Would you cherish and protect it?_  
 _Would you fill my days with your grey eyes, smiling or sorrowed?_  
 _Would you let me hold you, and hold me in turn when I need it?_  
 _Would you want to grow old with me_  
 _Until death do us part_  
 _And the Maker calls us to His Halls?_  
  
“I love you,” Nori whispered, when Dwalin put down the last piece of paper. Dwalin turned his head, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “So much.”

When Nori felt stable enough to leave his arms, he gathered up his stack of letters once more, neatening the pile and stowing it away in the box he had had Bifur make for the purpose when the first three letters had appeared. Pulling Dwalin along by the hand, he set the fine wooden box on his nightstand before crawling into bed, wrapping himself around Dwalin’s bulk once more.

 

* * *

 

 

Three days later, Nori was off doing something related to his work as the Black Owl, and Dwalin was getting into bed alone, tired after a long day. Beneath his pillow, something rustled. Lifting it, he stared at a folded piece of paper, a finely crafted _D_ on the side facing him. Pushing the pillow out of the way, he opened the small piece of paper, surprised to see his hands tremble.

 

 _Dwalin_ , it said, in letter that looked like they were made by a dwarfling. Dwalin stared, moisture quickly gathering in the corners of his eyes as he continued to read the letter, picturing Nori labouring over each pen-stroke; his tongue made an appearance in the corner of his mouth when he was focused on some minute details.

 _Love me tomorrow, for it is a new day_  
_Love me again, like you did the first day_  
 _Love me always, for my heart beats for you_  
 _Kiss me sweetly and gently upon tomorrow morning_  
 _Tell me tomorrow that today wasn't a dream_  
 _Hold my hand to guide the way_  
 _Hold my heart to keep it safe_  
 _Tell me sweet nothings as I begin to sleep_  
 _And I'll always remind you that I am yours alone_  
 _Truly and forever until we're reborn_  
 _Then I will find you once again_  
 _To tell you I love you all over again_

 

Dwalin fell asleep with a smile on his face.

**Author's Note:**

> I totally picture Ori being a very patient teacher and helping Nori with his writing.


End file.
